This is my first Middle Earth fan fiction story. The events in this story take place after the War of the Ring and the passing of King Elessar, so if there is ever a "Book of Lost Tales" category, this piece would probably fall under it. Please follow this story or leave a review if you would like to see more.
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Chapter 1: Epilogue
East of Lake Rhûn, the lands were inhabited by the Avari who dwelt alone since the First Age. Believed to have descended from elven ancestors who fled the stronghold of Angmar and the iron fist of Morgoth, they found no solace from fear in the forest of Doriath nor the stronghold of Gondolin. They sought to put themselves forever out of the reach of the Evil One for the survival of their race should Eriador fall and the Eldar be driven back to Valinor.
For this, they were called cowards by the West and the Eldar, losing all contact with their kindred as they fled East. In the West, it was said they perished in the harsh lands of the North or by the savagery of the wild strange beasts who roamed there. Few histories were written of the lands east of Rhûn, which were as mysterious as the Haradrim who dwelt east of Mordor, whose alliances and barbarity were known to Men and Elves in the great War of the Ring.
Yet after the passing of the Elves and the rise of the Golden Age of Men, begun by King Elessar and his sons, the stewardship of Arda became the charge of mortals. They tore down the towers of Sauron and his strongholds in Moria. They built tributes to the heroes in the War of the Ring. The Dúnedain restored all the ruins of old in the North and restored peace among the hobbits and dwarves in Eriador.
Though many mortals tried to preserve the beauty and memory of the Eldar and the Istari, the stories were fading into legends and the legends became bound in the history books, slipping into affectionate remembrance, for now was the Age of Man.
The Haradrim made a pact of peace and friendship for a hundred years with Minas Tirith and a Council of Kings was formed. The lords of Gondor, Arnor, Rohan, and Harad took bread and meat together, swearing to watch over the welfare of Arda. The hobbits and dwarves took little interest in the politics of men, choosing not to share in the ambitions of the Council in exchange for the pursuit of their own affairs in peace.
In the following years, the Lord of the West learned from the Lords of the East that Arda's lands stretched farther than any could imagine. The Haradrim had strange dealings with the peoples of the East, who lived in seemingly mythological jungles of the South and the grasslands of Lochland. There was even tale of a race of a fair-haired people who lived in the forests of Dorwinion, practising the lesser powers of the Noldor from the time of Westernesse and Fingolfin.
The curiosity of King Eldarion grew and the desire to set out for the East was strong among the Men of the West. The Haradrim were content only to share these secrets, but took no interest in venturing further than their own lands, save for trade and barter. So here begins our tale.
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Ecthelion, son of Ecthor, stared out at the Valley of Dale from the crest of a grassy knoll. He could see the sunrise peeking out from behind the roots of the mountainside as the clouds blushed deep rose in the lightening sky.
His Dúnedain brothers, fast asleep in one of the town's inns, would soon wake and wonder where he had gone, but for now, all was serenity. He could see the farmers herding their livestock into the green fields and smoke rumbling from vents in the mountainside as the dwarves began their day's toil at the furnaces beneath the earth, but the town was not yet stirring below.
How could anyone sleep when so much beauty lay here? Ecthelion, or Thel as his brothers called him, gazed up wistfully away from the town and squinted east into the distance beyond Dale and beyond the Lonely Mountain. He thought he could make out the Iron Hills, where the the dwarven lord Thorin Stonehelm dwelt. He turned his gazed to the south and there, he saw the Long Lake and Esgaroth with its brass towers gleaming like jewels in the new day's light.
Where would the day take them? Would they follow the River Celduin down to the legendary Lake of Rhûn and there pass beyond the borders of Middle Earth? Or would they pass north into the Withered Heath and towards Ered Mithrin, beyond to Forodwaith, and explore the lands of the north? All roads led East from here for King Eldarion had entrusted the Dúnedain, the Rangers of the North, to go forth and meet all peoples, bringing them the greetings of the West.
His father had been loath to give up his youngest son Thel to the Rangers of the North, but he saw the wandering streak in his son's blood from childhood and knew he could offer Thel no future so long as his elder brother Echoriad lived. So Ecthor blessed his son and bade him consecrate himself to the service of King Eldarion, high ruler of Gondor and Arnor.
Thel swore fealty and joined the Rangers of Rhovanion, helping to root out all traces of the Evil One in Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains. Though the Wood Elves had long departed, he had found the old tales of Ecthelion, his namesake, in the empty halls of the bygone king of the Woodland Realm. For now that the Elves had departed for Valinor, the Men of the West saw fit to preserve their memory in the names of their children.
Thel remembered the day the King's Order had arrived. An eagle had dropped the parchment in his lap while he was sitting in the Gladden Fields, fletching some arrows. He had run as fast as his legs would carry him to the Old Ford, where he delivered the paper to the chief among his ranger brothers, Arador.
While Arador appeared lukewarm to the King's demand, he consented to send three Dúnedain to wander the lands of the East and return in a year's time in the month of Narvinyë to report on their findings. From among his fellow brothers, Arador had chosen Thel for his learning, Finarfin (or Fin) for his martial skill, and Galdor for his knowledge of the stars to ensure the success of the quest. They were instructed to set out from Dale and the Lonely Mountain so as to be well-provisioned and prepared for their long journey.
Thel could hardly believe it. He would be going where no ranger had been before, charting unknown lands and strange cities. He would have so many tales to tell his family upon his return. Mayhap he would return with glorious titles and gifts conferred by the eastern peoples, though a part of him feared the dangers of outlandish beasts such as the oliphants of the Haradrim or an encounter with some far-off shadowy remnant of Sauron's power. Even so, the wanderer's itch was strong in his veins as he stared at the eastern horizon.
The feeling of excitement suddenly overwhelmed all his sense and he broke into a fierce run down the side of the hill. He hurtled towards that horizon on quickening feet, his heart brimming with longing and adventure.
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